


The Shape of His Name

by redfantasyfox



Series: Like the Tide Pulls Me Under [2]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Think of this like a deleted scene from my current WIP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-14
Updated: 2016-06-14
Packaged: 2018-07-14 23:56:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7196666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redfantasyfox/pseuds/redfantasyfox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No context, no reason; for those who just want Rick and Daryl to have sex already.</p>
<p>A little "extra chapter" from my current WIP, but can be read on its own!</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Shape of His Name

**Author's Note:**

> As a little surprise for my birthday, I've decided to share this deleted scene from a future chapter in "Like the Tide Pulls Me Under". It's a little rougher around the edges than what I usually write, but if you guys like it, I may write another every now and again, since Rick and Daryl won't hook up in the main story for quite a while...

Daryl felt the brush of Rick’s lips on his before he realized anyone had moved, before Rick’s chest had pulled forward to meet his hands, his breath taunt and warm on the side of his face. It was a sweet kiss, careful and gentle, but there was a wanting, a neediness that seeped into his fingers, the drag of them against Daryl’s scalp setting his ribs on fire. _God,_ for just a moment, Daryl lost the ability to think, his focus lost in the darkness; the world was the shape of Rick’s lips, the feeling of them pressed against his, and the smell of his skin so close he breathed nothing else.

The moment held still against the sheets. The movement of Rick’s fingers in his hair, the press of his tongue, the tease of his hips; the rustle of the duvet, the creak of the mattress. Rick broke the kiss, a quick pause, a quick skip, but Daryl moved for more, drawn forward, propelled by his body before his thoughts, his hands moving through the sheets, his fingers gentle on Rick’s face.

The kiss progressed quickly after that—Daryl lost track of his perspective, lost track of where his body was moving and how much of Rick he was allowed to explore. His hands were leaving trails all across Rick’s neck, his fingers curled in the material bunched on his back, his hips jerking to the slightest touch, the tiniest flicker of pressure. Their kisses were hungrier now, longer and harder, Rick pushing him back against the bed, his shoulders driving him into the sheets. 

Daryl shouldn’t have let him, but Rick’s weight on his chest drove him mad, the press of his body against him igniting every inch of his skin. Their legs had tangled, each one lying next to the other, their belts knocking like gunshots between the thrum of their clothing. Rick's touch was electric, and Daryl could feel the frenzy in his own skin, the aching in his jeans radiating out across his bones. He wanted the drag of Rick’s hips against him like he’d wanted nothing else in his life.

The same need seemed to shake Rick, his elbows suddenly buckling, his face sliding across Daryl’s jaw towards his ear, the press of his voice closer than the grip of his fingers, pulling at the looseness of the sheets. _“Daryl,”_ he said. The sound was hoarse and winded and desperate, a groan that shook down his body to his ribs. _“Oh god, Daryl.”_

And as Rick held there, his body lying against Daryl’s chest, Daryl moved beneath him, finding a rhythm that threatened them both, grinding their bodies together until everything started to throb.

It happened then, quickly, before Daryl was prepared for the shock. Rick fumbling for the bottom of his shirt, pushing up the material to bare his stomach and the button of his jeans.

“Rick,” Daryl said, and the sound was pained, a spike of panic making his hands jerk to Rick’s wrists, pulling them away from him. “Please don’t.”

Rick pulled back immediately, enough to focus on the lines around Daryl’s mouth, his breath coming in pants, his wrists bent on the bed. “You don’t want—”

But Daryl moved his hands along Rick’s arms, to take his face between his palms. Pulling up, Daryl kissed him, closer than before, their teeth knocking together lightly before sliding into place.

He took them both back to the bed after that, their bodies tight against each other. Daryl whispered huskily in Rick’s ear. “Fuck me with it on,” he said.

Rick’s next breath shivered out of his lungs.

With their lips back together, they shrugged out of the rest of their clothes. Daryl eased Rick’s jeans over his hips, his boxers slick in several places, the material bunched against his legs. His shirt came after, a flurry of fingers and movement, the buttons coming apart one by one, the bottom first, before the top. With the sides open around him, Daryl pulled him close, the shape of his body all he'd ever wanted to know.

Rick asked then, in a hoarse whisper, "Do you want to use a condom?" Daryl wasn’t sure, but said yes.

There was a knocking now, of Rick’s hand against the drawer to his bedside table, the latch underneath catching on the woodwork, creaking apart. He kept a small bottle of lube there, and spilled some on his hand, the other easing Daryl out of his boxers, dragging the material down and over his legs.

“Don’t let me hurt you,” he said, and moved carefully now, his kisses like they had been before, more chaste and tender, but searching. “Talk to me, okay?”

“Just go slow,” Daryl said. And that was all he could manage.

The experience was unbelievable; Rick moved one finger, pressed it against him, and pushed inside, the tension spiking up Daryl’s back, his fingers finding grip in the bite of Rick’s skin. He made a sound, but almost didn’t hear it, a panting kind of noise ripping through him, trembling out between his lips like a moan. Rick moved slowly in response, gentle at first, but a little more speed made Daryl cry out, and Rick seemed to enjoy that.

“Tell me you’re okay,” he whispered, his face on the pillow beside Daryl’s cheek, his body arched over and between him, his hips caught in the space between Daryl’s knees. “Tell me how it feels.”

Daryl stumbled over something to say. “It feels good,” he said, but his voice was tight, tight as the muscles in his back, bunched against the bed. He could feel the sweat in his hair, and along the back of his legs, every inch of his body wired and alive. “Don’t stop Rick.”

Rick exhaled sharply, the sound almost a laugh, half charged with relief, the rest with need. “You feel good too,” he said, slipping in a second finger, slow and careful with the entry, pacing himself on the strain in Daryl’s breathing. “God I want you so bad.”

Rick’s kisses were sloppy now, but Daryl fell in love with the slide of Rick’s face, the brush of his beard against his cheeks, the press of his nose against his hair. His breath was hot and humid on his neck, but he wanted that, the clip of his teeth on the skin there, the tease of his lips, the brush of his tongue.

Rick’s third finger was harder to take, Daryl crying out again, the movement sharper, almost painful. “Daryl?” Rick slowed, his movement almost stilling, his other hand moving from over Daryl’s head to against his face. “I’m here. Is it too much?”

Daryl didn’t want to say yes, because it wasn’t pain, it wasn’t bad. It was just an achiness, a throbbing, a sharpness that was newer to him than he’d expected. And he wanted this—he trusted Rick, and he wanted this.

“Just…go slower,” he whispered, hating the sound of his voice, the quiet, the pitch, the pressure wrapped up around his tongue. “I like it. I want it.”

Daryl squeezed Rick’s shoulders, moving his hands down his back, then one into his hair, pulling on the curls, letting his fingers drag against his scalp. He was afraid Rick would stop, and he told him so, jerking his hips against his hand, seeking the depth, wanting a little bit more.

Rick reached for the condom on the bedside table. The wrapper tore quietly in his hands, and the smell settling against the side of Daryl’s nose, new and intense.

“I’ll still be slow,” Rick said, pulling back his fingers, and suddenly the absence was the worst thing Daryl had ever known, the retraction like a physical pain, the emptiness an aching all of its own.

“I trust you Rick,” Daryl said, and he said it like he meant it, his face flushed and his neck red and his skin burning from his shoulders to his thighs. “I want you.”

And Rick kissed him, full on the lips, their bodies pressed completely against each other, the heat of their legs tangled up in sweat and lube.

“Help me out of these,” Rick whispered, but Daryl’s hands were already there, under the elastic of his boxers, pulling at the material, slipping it over his erection and down his thighs. Rick was hard under Daryl’s hands, harder than he was; the skin was slick all the way to the base of him, and Daryl moved quickly, Rick jerking suddenly in surprise.

_“Oh,”_ Rick breathed, and his body shook, tiny whimpers pushing against his tongue.

“What do you need?” Daryl whispered hoarsely, his other hand wrapped around Rick’s back, his arm meant to steady his trembling shoulders. “How do you like it?”

_“Daryl.”_ Rick’s voice was all air, hardly any sound, breathy and gasping and shivers and jerks. “Faster, harder.”

Daryl tightened his grip, letting Rick’s moaning fill the room, Rick’s teeth catching on his collarbone as he shifted his head against his neck. His lips were fumbling at his throat, and Daryl let the pressure come, the slap of his skin against Rick’s tongue, the red heat of their bodies leaving their mark.

Rick was the one who pulled back, slipping out of Daryl’s hands, the condom moving from his palm to his fingers. He tried to say something, but didn’t manage it; Daryl pulled forward, his back and shoulders off the bed, and kissed him.

Rick pushed him down after that, shifting closer, pressing their legs against each other. He used one hand to hold up his body, the other as a guide; Daryl felt the prodding, the pushing, the wanting, and shuddered.

Feeling Rick there, just inside him, hardly an inch, was almost too much. It was different than his fingers, than two of them, than three; Rick felt like more, harder and wider, insistent and brutal.

But he went slowly, a little at a time, pushing in and pulling back, never slipping out but getting close, easing forward. Daryl felt his muscles tensing everywhere, but shifted the pressure to his hands, letting his fingernails tear at the material of the sheets, his hands searching for purchase along Rick’s arms, wanting him closer. His breathing was what gave him away, and his cries were mixed with shudders, Rick’s eyes split between his face and his legs, watching and careful.

“Daryl?” He tried to ask, but the sound was a groan, cut off and intense. _“Ah, god.”_

And that was it, all of him, buried inside Daryl’s body, Daryl’s knees tight to his hips. Beneath him, Daryl could feel every inch of him as he moved, the pain not a pain, but an ache, a sweet kind of pulse that shook his nerves.

“Tell me—” Rick started to say.

_“Shut up Rick.”_

And then they were kissing again, their bodies holding still in the arc of the moment, Rick’s hand on the hem of Daryl’s shirt, his fingers on his hips, the other next to his head, his nails in the mattress. Daryl could focus on nothing but the feeling of Rick inside him, his arms lost at the shoulders, his legs at the knees.

Rick started swearing as he started to move, drowning out the sound of Daryl panting, their breathing tangled together, their groaning a mess of noise. Daryl loved the wet slide of him, the harshness of the strokes, the bump of Rick’s hips against the back of his legs. He could feel the pressure up the center of his chest, like it was more important than the pounding of his heart, the shudder of his lungs. His back arched off the bed at deep thrusts, the slap of air against his skin like a whip.

Rick said his name again and again.

“ _Daryl,_ god, I’m close,” he said, and he was faster now, eager, not frenzied but lost, the lines of his mouth pulled close together. “Ah, fuck. _Fuck_.”

Daryl let him rock back and forth, a piston, movement sparking groans from his own throat that didn’t sound like they belonged to him, the depth almost alarming. Rick was taking him with him, their bodies rubbing closely enough together for Daryl to know he was just as close to the edge.

Then Rick took his cock in his hand, and Daryl cried out his name.

The waves were incredible, the shock surging against his skin. There was something, almost surprise, in the edge of his voice, and his trembling rocked both of their bodies, the jerking steadied by his hands. It was almost too much, but it only took a moment more, and Rick came undone.

His cry was softer, muffled, like a gasping and a groan, the sound husky and broken. He stilled his hips after each new thrust, letting the throbbing roll out of him, his face in Daryl’s shoulder, cradled there. Daryl came down first, but held Rick as close as he could, letting the shudders ease out of his body, the hitch of their breathing catching on their ribs.

Daryl kissed him then, out of relief, the touch wary and gentle against his temple and the side of his face. Rick took a moment to breathe before kissing him back, their noses bumping together, their lips touching lightly, the gesture almost playful.

Neither of them spoke for a little while after that. The sweat slid across their skin, cooling in the aftermath, the sheets warm and sticky, the smell in the room close and dense. It was still dark, despite the hour, and the shadows wrapped closely around them, like a shield from the outside world and the press of time.

Rick sat up to pull out, softer now, the condom smelling of sex and sweat. He curled up next to Daryl after throwing it out, their sides completely touching, their hands seeking each other’s fingers and clinging together.

“You alright?” Rick asked, staring at the ceiling.

And Daryl nodded, but didn't know what to say. So he squeezed Rick’s hand, and let that be that.


End file.
